El Diablo

Human nature has masochistic tendencies, inadvertent or not.  Everybody is bound to do something painfully stupid.  The only hope is to do so in sanctuary.  I tend to perform these acts in the kitchen, because I firmly believe that a lot of good things in a cooking vessel will create something greater than the sum of its parts.  This time, I discover that there is an exception to the aforementioned rule, chiles.

 I have a lot of experience with various fresh green and red chiles, and even habaneros, but not much with dried chiles.  I dabble with chile de arbol, but dishes never come out very spicy.  So logically, if I were to increase the dosage of these chiles--by say, 'a bunch'--I should finally get achieve some burn to combat Chicago's frigid weather.  The result is a dish I am still facing the consequences a day later, what will now be referred to El Diablo.

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On All Fours

When the [weather] high for the day is 0, there is little to get excited for--I mean, at all.  Why risk leaving bed before the bladder threshold is met and the pain of dormancy overcomes the joy of warmth?  All raison d'être is lost during these times.  It's lost until another combatant enters the arena rumbling--the noble stomach.

The stomach requires sustenance.  There is no room for more cold--albeit yogurt, cottage cheese, or milk and cereal.  Hot, rich, unctuous pork is required.  Pork makes everything better.  Unfortunately, pork is rarely ready in a short time frame.  Even the flagship, bacon, requires 20 minutes to cook properly.  But what if we had prepared pork in a jar for on-demand use?  What if the day, week, or month before I was bored, and did the following?

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A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys

Since I started sharing my culinary experiences, a year ago (this month), via www, I've been very apprehensive about repeating dishes.  Don't think anyone wants reruns.  I started to overcome this once I realized my core, and current, audience didn't jump onboard until halfway in.  So I could go back and reuse material from 'classic' posts that no one read, other than my mom.

In August, something happened-- I made the same dish three times.  I prepared a Mexican style braised pork for my UFC guests, then for myself, and then again for a HOA BBQ.  The final time I tasted it, it was significantly better than the first.  An interesting concept.

Growing up, I was in band for five years, and choir for eight.  Never practiced once.  I ran cross country for seven years, and never really ran on my own time.  A genius I certainly was not, but nor was I amateur.  This concept of practicing has never been one of my core competencies (could also explain various homework habits).

Could the first few executions of the pork dish been anything other than practice?  What if I make it a fourth time?  Besides, I need something new for the people.  It's common we become slaves to what we do, what we love.  I adored when Audioslave hit the music scene back in '03, because by name they were very upfront about this concept.  Is it wrong for the mass of bloggers across the world to become slaves to their audiences?  Not like we're getting paid, but we're often personally financing our practices. 

This weekend, I was tasked with making some really great food for some really great people.  Attendance didn't pan out as planned, but the bottom line still had to be the same.  Because of this, I chose to repeat a dish I loved making once before.  Not only have I made this before, but readers disliked it, moreso than usual.  I'm talking about pig trotters.

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And Now For Something Completely Different

Since my encounter with Chris Consentino at the NRA show, I've been hellbent on working with the red headed step brother parts of the pig.  I also want physical evidence to rebute everyone that says I only do Asian and Mexican food.  After much Fergus Henderson research, so I could actually execute something I've never had or done before, here is my mix of the familiar with the unfamiliar:

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